F'lon Wyreleader of Pern
by Rimmersworld
Summary: Set in the 8th Interval. AU. F'lons attempt to restore the Weyr and prepare Pern for the coming of Thread.


* * *

Disclaimer, I don't own any of the characters, they belong to Anne McCaffrey

* * *

This was written before reading Masterharper of Pern, and so is AU

* * *

F'lon, Weyrleader of Pern

8th Interval

F'lon woke slowly, the satisfaction that he was once again Weyrleader causing him to grin. He had wrested the title away from R'gul for the second turn running. Stretching slowly, he thought back to last evenings mating flight, satisfied with the outcome.

Gold Nemorth had never produced a golden egg. Hopefully, this flight would produce one to help restore the Weyr's flagging numbers.

Thinking of the Weyr's uncertain future brought his mind back to Jora again. Angrily, F'lon pushed down his disgust at the Benden Weyrwoman and Nemorth's bonded life mate. He couldn't call her a dragonrider as her ridiculous fear of heights had prevented her from ever enjoying the exhilarating freedom of flying astride the golden queen.

Jora was lazy, indolent and grossly overweight, another sign of the decaying standard within the Weyr. She had never desired to travel, being content to hide herself away from the growing disrespect of the Lord's and Holders alike. R'gul's feeling was that if the dragonrider's were not seen, there would be no harm done and Jora had agreed with him.

When dragons mated the condition of your partner didn't matter. You were one with your beast in a union that had no earthly comparison but Jora had not been able to control her dragon's feeding; consequently it wasn't as long or as high as a flight should be. A mating Queen needed to blood her kill only. Jora had lost control over Nemorth and allowed her to eat six fully-grown herd beasts, making Nemorth too heavy to fly long enough to insure a good-sized clutch.

But F'lon was firmly established as Weyrleader now, his bronze having flown Nemorth twice. No one could doubt that Nemorth had chosen his bronze, Simanith.

Nemorth had taunted all the bronzes, bugling her defiance and mocking their efforts to catch her.

She had split her suitors into three groups narrowly avoiding a collision. Simanith soared eastward, two more bronzes careened westward and lost their speed and the remaining two beasts faltered and dipped unable to regain their momentum. Golden Nemorth crowed her supremacy; glowing in the warm afternoon sun she had deliberately turned eastward to allow his bronze to capture her. Necks twined they spread their wings in unison, joined in body, mind and spirit. Lazily they spiraled over the huge weyr bowl, locked together till exhaustion over took them both.

He and Jora, caught in the passion of the mating flight hastily fell towards the wide couch in the weyrwoman's inner chamber, unaware of the disappointed retreat of the unsuccessful riders.

Nothing mattered to them. They were one. Man-Woman, Gold-bronze, nothing could divide them. They had spent the night joined with their beasts in a glorious union.

Golden Nemorth and her bronze mate, Simaneth were curled up in the morning sun on the rocky ledge outside the Weyrwomen's chamber, sleeping off their exhaustion.

No longer mentally caught up in the passion of last night, F'lon looked over at the sleeping bulk beside him. Disgusted he quietly gathered up his discarded tunic from the stone floor and headed for the bathing room.

As he slid into the heated pool hoping to relax, he allowed his thoughts to bring him back to his recent obsession over the ancient records. An urgency had been building up inside, an unexplained feeling that too soon, the Red Star would return.

F'lon had tried to inspire Jora to put the weyr first. To discourage the sloth that had insidiously entered Benden weyr but Jora had not believed the old teaching ballads and had no pride in her position as the most powerful woman on the planet.

Jora had mocked him. "The ancient records of Threads are myths" and "tales of the Red Star are carefully construed harpers stories to keep the weyrs in control of the planet." Jora had spat out at him.

F'lon had retaliated harshly that, if she believed that, she should never stood on the hatching grounds.

All she cared for was lounging around and complaining about the diminishing supplies and infrequent tithes.

Under her lax leadership the Weyr had decayed and many riders were complacent in their position. No longer the proud defenders of Pern riding their majestic beasts, they hid away from the Lords and holders. Only venturing out to pilfer the occasional herd beast when the tithes were too meager or grudgingly given.

Only three holds continued in they're loyalty to support Benden Weyr.

F'lon preferred to believe they were not parasites on Pern.

He had vowed to bring the Dragonriders of Pern back to their former glory.

No longer content to live for the spring games, he believed the old records and teaching ballads and was raising his sons, Fallaner and Faminor to believe too. He knew that both were capable of impressing bronzes or at least a brown.

His beloved Larna had died birthing Fellanar. F'lon had been so grieved over her death that many thought he'd never recover, but three turns on Faminor was born to Manora, one of the women of the lower caverns. Manora was so well liked and competent that she had been recommended to become the new Headwoman in place of old Cheanny. Whose crippling bone disease had left her immobile. Cheanny had taken Manora under her wing and had given her invaluable insights in to the smooth running of the lower caverns.

F'lon had continued his relationship with Manora, and they had become weyrmates until his bronze had flown Nemorth.

As Weyrleader, F'lon decided that for the benefit of the Weyr, he should become weyrmates with Jora, thus ending R'gul's ability to influence her adversely. He had found the relationship physically distasteful but a dragonrider was required to sacrifice for the benefit of dragonkind and the future of Pern itself.

Manora was a good woman and believed like he did. She had gladly taken on Fallaner as a foster son and raised him with her own son, Faminor.

Content that his sons were in capable hands, he turned his attentions to reversing the reproach of the weyr.

F'lon had a plan and recruited the Masterharper, to bring back the oldest teaching ballads into the larger holds. Hoping to make all of Pern aware of their glorious history and the coming of their ancient enemy.

Not surprisingly, the Lords refused outright to reinstate the older ballads, turning on the Harper Hall as well as dragon rider.

The position of Harper was no longer a preferred profession and most Lords were not interested in anything Hall or Weyr had to say. Sadly many on Pern considered the dragonriders as anachronisms and useless.

Nevertheless F'lon instructed all who would listen, hoping that enough time remained before the return of the Red Star.

The following years proved F'lon intuition correct. Both his sons had impressed well. Fallaner became F'lar to his newly hatched bronze, Mnementh and Faminor took on the name of F'nor when he impressed brown Canth.

Only through F'lon's unerring dedication, did the weyr survive those years of hardship. It had been hundreds of Turns since the Red Star had ravaged the planet. The moldy and dusty records had become, for the most part illegible. But F'lon knew in his heart that the Threads would return one day, he laboriously searched the records for clues.

Knowing that the answer to Pern's survival lay hidden in them.

Both F'lar and F'nor would soon be able to assume the positions of wing leaders. F'lar had already shown strong leadership capabilities and F'lon mused that perhaps one day F'lar would replace him as Weyrleader, leading Pern into a better future.

There had been reports of civil unrest from his Harper connections and rumors that small armies were infiltrating and subduing their neighboring lands. Holds were autonomous by nature and had been so since the early days of settlement. The Weyr could only interfere if a request was made by the Lord Holder or a duly elected authority.

The rights and obligations of the Charter were unknown to many and F'lon himself, having only skimmed passages in his early training had only been interested in the Weyr's obligation.

Later, as Weyrleader, he had tried to find the entries concerning the Charter but much had become illegible with ink stains spreading on old hides. F'lon was frustrated that he was unable to do much without inciting the Lord Holders to further defiance against the weyr.

He had to show the Lords and minor Holders that the Weyr and dragonkind were a part of Pernese history for a reason. Their very existence was proof that the threads had, in the past ravaged the planet.

F'lon recalled the basic training that all weyrlings received after impression. Everything pointed to military style training. The long hard drills to strengthen dragons and their riders. The frequent excursions night and day to every major and minor hold.

Again and again visualizing reference points to burn their memory into adolescents' minds.

Too many had died in early training because of poorly considered reference points.

In the turns of F'lon's Leadership, very few had remained _**Between**_ He had a higher record of success than any other leader before him.

F'lon had taken to encouraging all his wingleaders to attend every function and Gather. Hoping to discourage the negative talk that was circulating amongst the holds and with the intent to hear and dispel any gossip and to display their dragons for all to see.

Many dragonriders had come from holds and crafthalls in turns long past, uniting the people through kinship. R'gul in his "wisdom" had only searched from the weyr itself.

But F'lon knew that when the Red Star drew closer the Queens were supposed to produce larger clutches. When that happened he would have to send search dragons throughout Pern to equal the number of eggs hardening on the sands. Many young boys and girls still dreamt of impressing one of those great beasts and that was what F'lon was counting on. This young generation needed to a part of his plan to restore the Weyr.

Prior to Benden Hold's great Spring Gather, F'lon and his wing-second, T'nell had arrived at Fort Hold offering transportation to Lord Grogellan and his Lady, Winella.

The barrel-chested Lord had huffed and puffed with his own importance before graciously accepting the invitation.

At the same time his wing leaders arriving at all major and minor holds offering the same service.

Only two Lord Holders were suspicious and hostile, demanding that the cursed dragonriders leave their lands at once.

The rest were enormously pleased with the invitations, as it reduced travel time from many hours, even days, to no time at all.

On the day of the Gather, his plan in place, F'lon mentally prepared him self and gave leave to his men to enjoy the Gather with instructions to be seen as pleasant and willing to be of service where necessary. It was important that the dragonriders once again become an accepted part of Pernese culture.

F'lon leaned against Simanith's foreleg, taking a deep breathe to prepare himself for the festivities. He and his men had delivered more than three times as many to this gather than originally estimated. He smiled to himself knowing it was the right course of action. He needed the Lord Holders with him, not against him.

Squaring his shoulders he dusted off his new shirt, glancing down at the new soft leather boots made for the occasion. He intended trying the new Toss dance that had become popular with the Holders and their people. Having left his heavy riding boots at the Weyr for a more suitable occasion, F'lon pushed back the heavy dark lock that habitually fell from his forehead and strode towards the dancing square.

The Harpers played well and long, first relaxing and then exciting the crowd with both old and new melodies. He was a good looking man and had no shortage of dance partners. This Gather had met all his expectations and F'lon was pleased. Parched through exercise, he returned his partner to the covered seating area and excusing himself. The Weyrleader turned and headed for the drinks stall.

A sudden shout and scuffle from within the crowd alerted F'lon. He looked around for its source, to his surprise the crowd parted to allow a heavy set man to approach. The man swaggered forward, hand resting lightly upon his long dagger; F'lon recognized the man from sketches circulated throughout the Weyr as one suspected of a multitude of crimes including assassination.

"Dragonwoman" snarled the man." Come dance with me"

F'lon was surprised at the speed with which his antagonist leapt forward, landing in a well-balanced crouch.

The Weyrleader testing the weight of his own familiar knife glanced quickly around to see if any of his wing leaders were in sight. There were to be no incidents at this Gather.

F'lon tried to ignore the sounds of the crowd behind him, some jostling one another for a better vantage point, others cheering,

"Parasites on Pern!" the man growled as he and F'lon slowly circled one another.

Suddenly his assailant sprang, the Weyrleader barely able to avoid the slashing blade.

Looking for an advantage, F'lon realized the man was more powerfully built than he first appeared. Therefore he determined to avoid getting into close quarters with him. There was no doubt in the Weyrleader's mind that his challenger would try to take this duel to the death.

Duels with in the Weyr had always ended at first blood, but his opponent gave every indication of a well-seasoned fighter. There were rules to dueling, but this man used every trick he could muster to gain an advantage. The Weyrleader, fit and strong would have been victorious in a fair fight but he didn't count on treachery within the crowd. The two antagonists were circling, looking for a weakness. Suddenly objects were flung in his path, F'lon retreating quickly. Taking a backward step he impaled his foot on an incredibly sharp instrument. The man seized the opportunity and rushed forward. F'lon was pushed violently from behind, unable to dodge the flashing knife.

The Weyrleader fell forward on to the waiting dagger of his murderer.

Dragons screamed from the heights.

The blade lodged deep within his chest.

Looking down at the crimson patch spreading down his shirt F'lon felt no pain, only grief that Pern's future was thwarted so senselessly. His mind reaching out in one last loving touch with his Bronze, who instantly appeared above the crowd, shrieking his death cry and promptly disappeared _**Between.**_

Thus Pern was sent into a spiraling descent.

Dragonriders were not revered, and the bloodthirsty Lords continued in their path of aggression, bullying and conquering their weaker neighbors.

Jora, not knowing what to do withdrew the dragonriders from their recent high profile and confined all the weyrfolk to the weyr until Nemorth rose again.

When she did rise, the flight was thrown open to every bronze. Jora was in no condition to adequately lead the weyr. Depressed and inconsolable she turned back to R'gul unconsciously influencing Nemorth's decision. Thus R'gul became Weyrleader again to the detriment of Pern.

Later that evening a grieving young bronze rider, alone and lonely looked up at the skies of Pern and vowed, one day he, F'lar would be Weyrleader and he would finish the work his father had begun. A prescient presence shadowed him from the heights and his resolve doubled.

One day, yes, one day, he would lead the dragonriders of Pern into their destiny.

THE END

* * *


End file.
